


Hips Don't Lie

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Assumptions, Barebacking, Belly Dancing, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, Bottom Derek Hale, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, Misunderstandings, Rimming, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If only Cora’s and Laura’s new friends weren’t married. It isn’t that Derek doesn’t like Kira, but he REALLY likes her husband, Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hips Don't Lie

**Author's Note:**

> This week's prompt at fullmoon_ficlet is #100 - Amnesty, which means we can pick any prior prompt so I picked #42 - Assumption. I woke up one morning thinking “Sterek” and “belly dancing” and “misunderstandings” and then this happened. 
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: This version contains an additional scene (and 2400 more words) than the version posted to the comm! There is a final scene that did not appear in the original version. 
> 
> As always, I do not own the world nor characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

“I am not waiting while you take a belly dancing class.” Derek crosses his arms, scowls at his sisters who simply grin in return.

“Where are you going to go?” Cora gestures at the building that sits in the middle of the warehouse district, surrounded by not a whole hell of a lot. “Class is only forty-five minutes long. By the time you drive back into civilization, it’ll be time to come back again. Besides, you know you want to laugh at Laura tripping over her own two feet.”

“That’s Cora doing the tripping,” Laura tells him. “And technically, it’s my car.”

“I won it,” Derek points out, still not entirely sure why he’s here and why he didn’t just hand the keys to Laura when she announced that she needed to get to class. “We had a bet and I won the car to use while my truck’s dead.”

“Pfft.” Laura makes a deriding noise. “As if that would stand up in court. It’s still technically registered to me, and your truck _is_ dead, so here we are. You insist the car is yours, you drive it, you bring us where we need to go. Besides, it keeps the peace. Do you _really_ want to explain to Mom why we’re fighting again?”

Derek is twenty-five years old and he shouldn’t still be answering to his mom about fighting with his siblings.

And yet, it happens daily.

“You could move out,” Cora points out.

“I could,” he agrees. But not really. Not when the house is large enough for an extended family and then some, and he has his own set of rooms over the garage with his own kitchen and it’s exactly like both having an apartment _and_ being the good kid who sticks around and recognizes pack rule. It puts him ahead of Laura on all points, except when she’s visiting, and ahead of Cora simply because he’s already out of school and has a job, and she won’t graduate until June.

Cora reaches for the keys and slips them into her pocket. “You might as well stay,” she says. “There’s good scenery.”

“I’m not interested in the scenery,” Derek says dryly. “It’s a belly dancing class. I bet you two are the youngest ones in it.”

“Hardly.” Laura grins, nudges at his shoulder. “There’s a waiting area for spouses, siblings, and significant others. You can stay there and watch.”

“And laugh at Laura,” Cora whispers.

“Just for that, I am going to trip you,” Laura mutters.

Derek might as well stay. If he catches them fighting, he’ll know he’s ahead on good son points, even if his parents don’t. 

Scenery, on the other hand, does not interest him. Derek has never had good luck with relationships, and he’s fairly certain that picking up a one night stand at his sisters’ dance class is a bad idea.

That is, until he sees the guy.

Derek almost walks into a pole, catching himself in the seating area and holding on for dear life as soon as he spots him. All lanky, loose limbs, hips rolling like they aren’t even fully attached, the guy dances like he’s made for it. He doesn’t know if it’s _belly dancing_ but it’s something, and whatever it is, the guy is good at it.

He’s also with a heavily pregnant woman who is laughing as she tries to awkwardly imitate the movement of his hips.

Because of _course_ he’s married.

Cora and Laura join the pair, and Derek sits hastily, trying to pretend like he isn’t looking even though he knows Cora caught him. 

He spends the rest of class smirking when Laura trips over motes of dust, and when Cora moves stiffly and uncomfortably, and trying not to look at the one person in the room that keeps drawing his gaze back.

#

“Hi, I’m Kira.” The young woman smiles, brown eyes warm and friendly, her hand stuck out. Derek catches the aura that surrounds her as soon as their hands touch, and Kira’s eyes go wide. “Oh. Wow. Didn’t expect that. Does that mean…?” Her voice trails off as she looks at Cora and Laura, and her brow furrows. “I mean, they didn’t feel… but you feel… I shouldn’t be talking about this here, and I’m sorry, but of course, I’m sure _you_ know what I’m talking about.”

It’s a little like being on a merry-go-round, the topic shifting and changing before Derek manages to catch up. “We shouldn’t talk about it here,” he echoes, because honestly, fox and wolf isn’t a conversation he wants to have in the middle of a room filled with strangers. And _why_ didn’t Laura and Cora see fit to mention the kitsune in Beacon Hills?

“Oh good, and I’m sorry.” She smiles so brightly that he finds himself smiling back at her. “I’m just a little scatter-brained right now.” Her fingers twirl by her head. “Not that I’m not a little chattery the rest of the time. I’m always talking. Usually saying things I shouldn’t be saying, like oh, _wolves_.” She blinks rapidly. “Right. Let’s start again. I’m Kira, and this is Stiles.” She reaches out, managing to grab onto the young man and pulling him forward hard enough that Stiles flails an arm out looking for balance.

It should make him less attractive to see him so awkward. Except it doesn’t.

Derek’s gaze lingers on Stiles’s features, takes in every mole, the liquid warmth of his amber eyes, the way his lips pout slightly. He can’t stop seeing the fluid movement of his hips, making a joke out of the others in the class with the way he seems born to the technique.

“Hey, dude, you’re Cora’s brother.” Stiles reaches out, manages to clasp Derek’s hand and squeeze it with long fingers that look like they move as fluidly as his hips.

“You’re friends with Cora.” Belatedly it occurs to Derek that he’s still holding on, and he manages to wriggle his hand free so that he’s not grabbing at Kira’s _husband_ while she’s watching them, amused. “I didn’t know.”

“Dude, your sisters are friendly.” Stiles laughs, pats Derek on the shoulder. “We met them in class last Tuesday and they just started talking. They’re both a little obnoxious, aren’t they?” He shrugs one shoulder. “Which works, since I can be kind of an asshole. Kira’s the angel compared to the rest of us.”

Kira holds her hands in a circle over her head, tiny sparks barely visible. “I could even have the halo,” she says, and Stiles laughs far more than the joke is worth, his hand against his stomach dragging his shirt up.

Derek shouldn’t look. He _knows_ he shouldn’t look, but there is skin there, and a dark-haired trail leading into Stiles’s sweatpants, and he jerks his gaze away quickly, growling softly instead of flushing.

“We’re heading out for ice cream. Want to come?” Kira offers. “We went last week, and we were figuring we’d go again, although we didn’t know they’d be bringing you along, and you’re probably pretty bored by now, but honestly, I just like ice cream. Being pregnant takes a lot of energy, and well, it’s _ice cream_.”

“I think he understands the concept of post-workout sugary snacks, Kira.” Stiles rubs the back of her shoulder. “Give the guy a chance to say yes or no.”

Derek has no idea how his sisters got adopted by a married couple that seems to be half ridiculous seductive human and half amazingly pregnant kitsune. He opens his mouth to say no, and instead asks, “Just how pregnant are you?”

He figures he’s lucky that she laughs rather than punching him. He remembers how cranky his mother was when she was pregnant with Jacob back when Derek was fourteen, and he’s almost certain Talia would have punched him for that question.

Instead, Kira’s eyes crinkle as she pats the bulge of her stomach. “Only six months, believe it or not.” She offers a wry smile. “I’m just small, so I’m carrying out rather than tucking her up under my ribcage. My chiropractor suggested belly dancing as a good way to keep limber and active while I’m pregnant, and Stiles is incredible because he’s coming with me.”

“You could take classes with us.” Cora lands on Derek’s back, arms hanging over his shoulders, legs wrapped around him for a piggyback ride. “This was only our second session out of ten. I’m sure they’d let you join in for the last eight sessions. It’s great exercise, and you’d have fun. And you’re a better dancer than either of us ever was.”

“Laura did ballet and wasn’t that bad.” It’s not an excuse. Or exactly true, since Laura was _awful_ and she was only eight when she did it and swore never again.

“You could keep me company so I wouldn’t be the only guy in the class.” Stiles punches Derek’s shoulder. “C’mon, do a dude a favor.”

Laura’s standing right there, smirking with her arms crossed. Kira looks so _hopeful_ , dark eyes wide, and Derek just knows that if he doesn’t say something, she’s going to start burbling over with words again. Cora’s arms squeeze him, and Derek doesn’t know what she’s trying to communicate.

Then there’s Stiles, who just watches him, an open grin lighting his expression while he waits.

He means to say no. He _really_ means to say no.

“We can’t go for ice cream today,” he says, and he knows he’s done for. He’s stuck. Because _next week_ they will make sure that they all go out. And somehow he’s going to have to put up with seeing Stiles and his _pregnant wife_ every Tuesday for another two months.

And he knows that they understand that it’s a _yes_ by the way Stiles raises one hand for a high five, and Cora hugs him hard from over his shoulders. Laura just turns away, a smile lighting her eyes, and Derek doesn’t know what to do with that.

At least he has a week to figure out how the hell he’s going to pretend to dance with Stiles around.

#

Derek is actually kind of impressed that his sisters don’t keep talking about it in the intervening week between classes. Cora reminds him once to wear sweats, and Derek elects for basketball shorts and a t-shirt instead. Laura points out that he needs to make time for going out to get something to eat after, and Derek doesn’t know how to say _no_. So he just goes with it, and when his truck is finally fixed, even though they could take Laura’s Camaro, they end up planning for him to drive since he can fit more people into his Explorer after the class.

Derek stops in to talk to Talia before he leaves the house, knowing his mother will scent the anxiety rolling off of him in waves that he’s sure anyone with a decent nose could smell. She strokes her fingers through his hair, grooming him like he’s still six years old. “What is it, Derek?” she asks quietly, and in that moment she is both _alpha_ and _mom_ and he couldn’t love her any more for it.

He wants to let it all spill out but he’s too embarrassed about being this attracted to a married man. He focuses on a side point instead. “Did you know there’s a kitsune in town?”

Talia’s fingers still, and she considers Derek quietly. “I did. Is there a problem?”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. As long as everyone’s living in harmony, I’m fine. I just… ran into her at the store.” It’s a small lie, and he’s sure his mother could tell if Derek’s heart rate weren’t already so ramped up just from the idea that he has class in an hour and he’ll be seeing Stiles again.

“She’s a nice woman. Married to a human and well aware of the necessity to keep things quiet.” Talia’s smile is gentle. “We had tea when they moved to town, and I reassured her that our hunters are not active anymore, unless there is something which threatens Beacon Hills.”

Hunters are a sore point, but Talia is proud of the treaty that she holds with the Argents, hard won as it was. There were casualties along the way, but Chris Argent is a reasonable man, far more reasonable than his father or sister ever were. Derek feels the shiver down his spine, and his mother pulls him in to hug him.

“Were you concerned about danger from the kitsune?”

“No.” He knows she’s waiting for an answer about his anxiety, but he can’t say it, can’t put it into words, not the actual root reason. “She’s in that belly dancing class Cora and Laura convinced me to take with them.”

Talia nudges Derek back, grinning broadly. “I’d love to see that.”

“No.” He tries not to be horrified, but her laugh tells him that he failed. “Mom, _no_. It’s bad enough that they convinced me to try it. No one needs to see it.”

“You’ll be fine.” She kisses his cheek, rubs her own against him to leave her scent behind. “Go. Have fun.”

And in the end, Derek _does_ have fun, surprisingly enough. He feels awkward at the class, too broad and muscular compared to the lithe grace that Stiles has, but the movements aren’t entirely different from what he’s used to doing.

He can’t manage the same roll of his hips that Stiles has, but he can do quick little circles, and a motion that’s similar to twerking, even if he feels ridiculous. There’s a moment when the instructor has them all standing with their arms out to the side, trying to _dislocate the rib cage_ and he’s laughing because Cora’s biting her lip so hard it’s white, and Laura is making awkward little jerking motions, and Kira looks like her belly is dancing more than she is, and Stiles… he meets Derek’s eyes and he wiggles just a little and it’s almost too much but Derek _loves_ it.

He has fun, even if he hates himself constantly for feeling how he does.

When the class ends, he feels sweat dripping down his back and his body aches lightly, almost like he’s been in a fight. He’d forgotten how good it feels to lose himself in motion that isn’t _violent_. It makes him feel loose and calm and when Kira cheerfully suggests ice cream, Derek agrees before he really thinks about what he’s saying.

They end up squeezed into a half-circle booth at the back of the shop, Laura ordering coffee and pastry while the rest order the fresh, homemade ice cream that Bickerings is known for. When it comes, Kira flushes prettily at how big her sundae is. “I use up a lot of energy just by _existing_ ,” she says with a quick, shy smile. “And my mom didn’t think to mention how hard it is to carry someone like me. Maybe I wasn’t this strong as a baby. Oh God, what if she isn’t like me? What if she’s stronger? What if something’s wrong?”

“Everything’s _fine_.” Stiles reaches over, covers her hand and squeezes, his smile gentle. “Your OB adores you and hasn’t noticed stray lightning bolts, and Deaton says your pregnancy is totally normal.”

“You know Deaton?”

“Of course she knows Deaton. Everyone like us knows Deaton.” Cora sticks her spoon in Derek’s bowl and steals a glob of hot fudge. “Who else is going to deal with all of our weirdnesses?”

He hadn’t really thought about it, but he also hadn’t thought about a kitsune living in Beacon Hills, or sitting here with a fox and a human and having an almost frank conversation about being a werewolf. This isn’t his normal way of life.

Except… Stiles is looking between Kira and Cora and Derek, a frown drawing his brows together. His long fingers tap against the table. “Am I missing something?”

“Wolves.” The world comes out mumbled around a mouthful of ice cream and brownie, and Kira makes a face, swallowing hurriedly. “Sorry.”

Stiles nods, expression shifting from confused to understanding. “Ah, yeah, right, sorry, not really the sort of person to have any kind of easy way to identify the strange. This kind of explains a lot.” He gives Cora a look.

“What, you smell good.” She grins wickedly. “Lean close to Derek, let him smell it. He hasn’t gone hanging all over you after a class yet.”

Laura shoves at him from the other side, and Derek finds himself falling against Stiles, face against his throat unexpectedly. He inhales out of reflex, tasting sweat and musk and a hint of embarrassment. And he _does_ smell good, in a way that isn’t exactly human but it’s not wolf or kitsune or anything else that Derek recognizes. It makes him want to lean closer and flick his tongue against the pulse, tasting there to see if skin makes it stronger. A low growl rises, and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s _him_ , reacting to the scent of Kira swirling around them.

He sits back, dropping his gaze to hide the bright blue that he knows is flashing, his tongue touching the teeth that have dropped into his mouth. He swallows the growl, desperately tries to steady his breath.

“It’s okay.” Stiles pats his knee. “I have actually been told that before. If my best friend weren’t straight as a ruler, he says he’d have jumped my bones back when we were sixteen. And his other best friend tried, but I wasn’t interested. Isaac’s not my type.”

Of course someone named _Isaac_ isn’t Stiles’s type, considering he’s married to this lovely _female_ kitsune. Derek can _see_ what Stiles’s type is clearly, and it also isn’t tall, broad, and broodily awkward. He huffs a small breath. “It was still rude,” he mutters, and Stiles snorts.

“Sniff me any time, dude.”

Derek wishes he could slide under the table when Laura shoves him again, and Cora snickers. His sisters. _Honestly_. What the hell are they thinking?

“Oh!” Kira jumps, bumping into the table and puts her hand on her stomach. “There she goes again. Summer’s all pumped up on sugar now. I thought she’d sleep longer after class.” She sighs. “That’s the best part about class, you know. It’s like when you hold a baby and sway, and she goes right to sleep. It’s about the only time she’s quiet. She’s just incredibly active, so much energy, which is why I eat so much. Especially in the middle of the night. The activity, I mean, not the eating, although sometimes I’m eating then, too.”

“Summer?” Cora tugs Derek’s ice cream closer and he lets her pull it away, taking the moment to steal hers in exchange. He likes hot fudge over vanilla, but salted caramel over peanut-butter fudge works too. He takes a bite, using the moment to stare at Stiles while Stiles watches Kira. He likes the fond, besotted way he looks at her.

And he’s really in deep shit if watching a man be in love makes him fall more in love with him.

It’s not _love_ , it’s _attraction_. That’s all. Watch the scenery, don’t get involved.

“It’s all Stiles’s fault.” Kira beams at him as Stiles and she high five. “I started calling her the somersaulting wonder, and Stiles shortened it to Summer, and it kind of stuck. So she’ll be Summer Olivia.”

Stiles fist pumps. “Yes, I named the baby. And I _tried_ to convince her that Summer Storm would be a fantastic homage to the X-Men as well as disgustingly cute considering the whole electrical aspect, but she refused.”

“I am not naming my baby _Summer Storm_.” Kira sticks her tongue out. “Did you really think that anyone else would go for that, Stiles?”

“Isaac liked it.”

“Isaac was high on sniffing you at the time,” Kira answers, lips pursed. “Everyone else said no.”

Stiles shrugs. “A guy’s gotta try. If you have another one, you can name _her_ Storm.”

“Maybe.”

That seems to be enough for Stiles, who returns to eating his ice cream with relish. Derek lets himself get lost in watching Stiles lick the spoon while making irritatingly pleased noises at the taste of the confection. He doesn’t even care when Laura knocks his knee, tries to get his attention. Derek just licks at his own spoon and watches, eventually nudging Cora’s bowl towards Laura to let her finish it off.

He can’t have Stiles, that’s obvious. But dammit, his sisters promised him scenery, so he’s damn well going to _look_ while he can.

#

After the next class, they go out for coffee, while Kira drinks two cups of hot cocoa and eats three muffins. Derek can’t figure out why she isn’t _vibrating_ , unlike Stiles, who _is_ actually in motion, his leg jiggling where it butts up against Derek’s knee as they are wedged around a table that is too small for five adults to share.

Derek’s third class finds them all too busy to go out, but after the next they head to a buffet for dinner and Derek watches Kira pile sixteen plates high with food and clean them all, while Stiles eats ribs and practically purrs over the taste.

It’s killing him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Watching Stiles dance and eat is the highlight of his week, and in between he dreams about the movement of those hips, or the way long fingers dance in the air when Stiles is talking.

After his fifth class, he knows it isn’t just attraction or a crush, and it isn’t going to go away.

He refuses to go the next week, even though Cora yells that there are only three more classes and he can just suck it up and get in the car. He locks himself in his room until he hears the Camaro peal out and he knows it might be safe to emerge.

Talia is waiting when he makes his way into the main house; he tries to retreat but she catches him, two fingers pinching at his earlobe. “Care to explain?”

“I’m in love with the kitsune’s husband,” Derek mutters, unable to meet his mother’s eyes. “Cora and Laura met them at that belly dancing class. I think they think it’s funny.”

Silence stretches out, and Derek inhales, tasting the air as her scent slips from anger and worry to amusement. “You’re in love with Stiles?” Talia asks, and Derek nods his head once. His mother snorts. “I see why they think it’s funny.”

“It’s not _funny_ ,” Derek growls.

“Yes, actually, it is.” She releases his ear, fingers gliding across his cheek in gentle apology. “And you should talk to him and find out why.”

“Talk to him.” Derek can’t imagine anything he’d rather _not_ do. “Did you miss the part where he’s a married man?”

If anything, that makes his mother more amused; he can taste it on the air, see it in her smile. “Oh, my son, you always do make things harder than they need to be. Trust your instincts and go back to class next week. There are only two more, and you have been having fun with your sisters and Kira and Stiles, yes?”

As much as it pains him to admit it, “Yes.”

“Noshiko speaks of her daughter often. I’d like to meet her someday.” Talia pulls Derek into a hug, rubs her cheek against his, and for a moment all is well with the world. This is _pack_ and _family_ and why he still lives at home even though he’s twenty-five and could easily get his own apartment. Pack is meant to be together, to lean on each other on a daily basis.

Talia leaves and it takes another hour before Derek replays what she said and realizes that his mother has never _met_ Kira.

There’s another kitsune in Beacon Hills. He was wrong about the conversation he had with his mother before.

Which implies that she was saying that maybe he’s wrong about something else, too.

#

Derek meets his sisters at the next to last class, waiting until the last moment to slip in, taking his place in the back of the class.

“Feeling better, dude?” Stiles leans in close to him, barely whispering, while Kira stands on her toes to wave at someone in the waiting area. Derek sees a guy there, expression open and kind and absolutely besotted. “That’s Scott,” Stiles murmurs. “He’s head over heels for Kira and wanted to see her dance. Usually she’s only graceful with a sword in her hand. But you know, swords and babies don’t really mix as a viable exercise opportunity.”

Kira trips over her toes, arms windmilling for a moment before she catches herself and beams happily, hips gyrating. She has definitely improved, and she manages her ungainly abdomen better than a month ago, but she is still cheerfully awkward. It doesn’t seem to matter to Scott, who watches with that same quiet smile.

Derek doesn’t get it, because Stiles seems proud to see that look. Maybe they have some kind of threesome thing going.

Unless he’s wrong.

He tears his gaze away from all of them and throws himself into the stupid class, trying to dislocate his rib cage and let his hips simply flow like water. It’s probably his best class since starting, even with the week away, just because he won’t let himself get distracted.

And when it’s over, Kira waddles hurriedly off the floor and throws her arms around Scott’s neck, kissing him soundly.

“How long have you had an open marriage?” The question sounds stupid as soon as it leaves Derek’s lips, and he cringes at the sharp crack of laughter from Cora across the room.

Stiles’s brows draw together, furrowed deeply. “Have I had a what with who? Dude, I’m not married.”

“But you. Kira.” Derek gestures between them, and Stiles’s eyes go wide.

“What? No. No, oh God, no, she’s like a sister to me. I wouldn’t even think of it; she’s married to my best friend, Scott.” Stiles waves at the two of them. “The one who’s a wolf, like Isaac.” The _and you_ is implied. “I just said I’d take the class with her because I like to dance, and she didn’t want to be alone here, and honestly, dancing’s about the only time I don’t feel like an awkward mess.”

“I’ve noticed.” Because Derek’s noticed _everything_ , except for the things he got wrong. “So you’re single.”

“Yeah.” The corners of his eyes crinkle when Stiles grins. “Very.”

“But Isaac’s not your type.” Derek is still working through the evidence, trying to figure out if this is going to still end up with him somehow doing the wrong thing or having another hellaciously horrible attempt at a relationship that ends up with him miserable and potentially looking like a complete idiot.

“I don’t like them tall and skinny, although I do think _asshole_ is a redeeming quality,” Stiles says lightly. He wipes his face with a towel, then tosses it to Derek. It smells just like him, and Derek knows that Stiles understands what it means to let Derek rub it against his skin. “I like them tall and broad and with the kind of attitude that says _don’t fuck with me_ and maybe a hint of _I could break you in two_.” Stiles shrugs one shoulder. “I had a crush on Lydia Martin for three years in high school.”

Derek knows Lydia—it’s hard not to meet the local banshee when your pack heads up the supernatural part of town. “I like assholes,” Derek says, belatedly realizing how that sounds when Laura joins Cora in cackling from somewhere far away. He covers his face with his palm. “Fuck. I mean. You’re an asshole. Shit, that wasn’t what I meant either.” Even if it’s true. Stiles starts laughing, and he dimly registers that there is _more_ laughter from Kira and Scott. Fuck his life, being surrounded by supernatural people who can hear every mistake he makes. “Coffee?” he finally manages to say. “I have my own car. Unless you drove Scott and Kira.”

“Scott drove,” Stiles assures him. “And coffee sounds great. Or ice cream. Or anywhere that our friends _aren’t_ going and we can get five minutes alone.” He tilts his head, and his throat is perfect, pale skin with a line of moles that Derek wants to chase with his tongue. Stiles’s voice drops low. “Just in case you want to sniff me again.”

“More,” Derek murmurs. He reaches out with the towel still in his hand, drags it down the side of Stiles’s throat to rub his scent there, inhaling it when their scents just barely blend. “My truck is actually comfortable. We don’t have to go anywhere in particular.”

“I am all in for going nowhere with you.” Stiles waves to the others, calling out, “We’ll catch up with you later. Don’t wait up!”

Derek only manages to make it outside with him before he pulls him in, nudges him back against the truck, kissing him hungrily. When Stiles leans into him, hips rotating idly, Derek’s hand falls to hold him, taking everything from the kiss that Stiles is willing to give. Later on he can find out whether Stiles’s hips are the promise he thinks they are. Later on. Right now, finally having him in his arms is enough.

#

After the last day of class, they all go out to dinner, six bodies squeezed into a booth in the back of Moscatello’s. Stiles edges so close to Derek that he’s almost in his lap, a distraction that amuses Cora and Laura to no end. Kira keeps them entertained with stories of Scott and Stiles when they were young. After an hour, Derek meets Isaac and Allison, Erica and Boyd, and he learns about the other pack in Beacon Hills that he’s never known about. There is a moment’s unease when he realizes that Allison is _Allison Argent_ , but it passes quickly in the light of her smile and the quiet reminders from Laura about the peace between them.

They slowly take over the back of the restaurant as the Hales filter in to take another two tables, Derek’s parents bringing his youngest siblings,with Peter and his wife bringing their children as well. He’s entirely unsurprised when Lydia walks in with two more young men, and by the time dinner is over, the supernatural folks outnumber the humans in the building by quite a lot.

It’s good. It’s a melding of packs that Derek thinks has been a long time coming, and it only continues to grow as friends of friends stop by and interact.

But all he can think is how much he wants to _leave_.

Stiles edges over, giving him a little space when Cora moves to another table. He keeps his hand on Derek’s knee, sliding up to the inside of his thigh under the table, while Stiles uses his other hand to talk, bright and animated. Derek stays focused on those fingers, the way they move through the air, speaking as much as his words do.

Derek captures his hand, brings it to his mouth to press fingertips to lips, letting his tongue touch the pads of Stiles’s fingers. He sucks one tip in, and Stiles’s eyes go dark, his mouth dropping open in a small _oh_.

His sister snorts and tells him to get a room, and Derek hears the response from those with supernatural hearing, amusement rippling through the crowd. He nudges at Stiles. “I think we should go.”

“I am all over that plan,” Stiles agrees quickly. “Dad—he’s right over there at that table with Scott’s mom—he’ll be here for a while. Turns out he knows your dad and they like to talk shop, and I think Allison’s dad’s coming in, too, and I’m sure they have a lot to talk about. We should have an hour or two on our own. Crap, you aren’t going to laugh about the fact that I live with my dad, are you? There’s just the two of us, now, and there hasn’t really been a need for me to move out.”

Derek slides along the bench, Stiles falling to his feet as he moves off the end. “I live with my parents,” Derek admits. “We all do; it’s a pack thing. Except Laura, but she’s determined to be independent, and probably coming into an alpha heritage and two alphas in one home isn’t a good idea. Even if your dad were home, we’ll probably have more privacy there than we’d have in my apartment over the garage.” But he does have his own place, and it _is_ technically private, if you don’t think about supernatural hearing, so someday he’ll bring Stiles there.

Right now, though, he wants Stiles all to himself. He lightly brushes Stiles’s cheek with his fingertips, tugging him close to rub his cheek against him in a clear mark of _mine_. He hears the low noise of approval from his mother and alpha, and he smiles into Stiles’s skin. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, and they manage to leave in a flurry of goodbyes.

Stiles keeps his hand on Derek’s thigh the entire drive, fingers drifting against the hard ridge of his erection until it’s almost too difficult to pay attention to the road. He captures those long fingers, brings them up to his mouth to nip at the tips, loving the whine Stiles makes.

“Turnabout is fair play,” Stiles admits, voice a little breathy.

“Don’t want to crash,” Derek counters.

He leaves the truck on the street because eventually the Sheriff will be home and expecting to park on his side of the driveway. Derek might be gone by then, but he doesn’t want to risk angering him, just in case. They stumble inside and up the stairs, trying to strip each other as they go. Stiles sends his own shirt flying over the couch, and Derek isn’t sure where his socks end up, but he’s pleased that he doesn’t fall flat on his face while taking them off. His boxer-briefs at least make it to Stiles’s bedroom, the last thing he’s wearing as Stiles goes to his knees and leans in, rubbing his face against the bulge of Derek’s erection.

“Fuck, you’re big,” Stiles murmurs. “I want to see if I can get you in my mouth.”

Oh _fuck_. Derek groans when Stiles mouths him through the fabric, soaking it, stretching it around his dick. Stiles licks at the head of his cock, takes him in with stretched, red lips, eyelashes fluttering when his eyes close. “You are so fucking gorgeous,” Derek whispers. He shoves his thumbs under the waistband, pushes the briefs down, wincing when they snag on his dick and it bounces. Stiles captures it, taking it deep into his mouth, and Derek shifts his hips, wanting to fuck into the warmth and not _stop_.

Then the hands get involved, those long fingers stroking the part of Derek’s dick that doesn’t fit in Stiles’s mouth, cupping his balls, teasing at his perineum. “Fuck me.” The words slip out, and Stiles _does_ , pressing against the tight rim and pushing into Derek just like he loves. It’s more than he expects and it’s overwhelming. He doesn’t manage to warn Stiles before his entire body jerks and he’s coming down his throat and Stiles just _swallows_.

Stiles leans back on his heels, lets him go with a wet pop. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Derek’s trying to think what Stiles could possibly be referring to since honestly, all that’s happened is he shoved his dick down his throat and came as fast as a teenager.

Stiles slides his hands over Derek’s thighs, up to his ass and nudging the cheeks apart to tease through his crack. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

This _never_ happens.

Derek’s knees go weak as he nods. “Fuck yes.” Because he’s been dreaming of the way Stiles moves, that fluid shift of his hips, waking hard as a rock as he imagines Stiles rolling like that, fucking into him. Derek would rather bottom, but the few guys he’s ever been with just assumed he’s a top and right now, with this offer, he’s falling even more in love with Stiles. As if there were any further to fall.

“Get up on the bed.”

Derek obliges, scooting back and letting his legs fall open as Stiles hunts through the drawer to his nightstand, tossing lube onto the bed. Stiles pauses, a condom in his hand and an uncertain expression gracing his features.

“Um.” Stiles stops, vaguely red. “Scott says… I mean you can’t get pregnant. There isn’t some supernatural weird rule about that, right? And werewolves don’t get diseases. Not human ones. And I’m clean anyway. You can’t infect me. I mean. Do we—?”

It’s kind of adorable, and it’s the first time Derek’s had a human guy in his bed that he can be honest with. “Neither of us can get pregnant, and no, there aren’t any possible diseases,” he says quietly. “You can put the condom away.”

“Fuck,” Stiles breathes. “Dude. I am going to fuck you so hard you see stars.”

Derek crooks one finger and Stiles drops the condom on top of the night stand before crawling onto the bed. “You really want this,” Stiles whispers, his fingers ghosting over Derek’s abdomen, down past his balls as Derek lifts his hips, offers himself.

“I really want this,” Derek says, trying not to flush. “Since the day I saw you in the back rolling your hips. I thought you were _married_ , Stiles. Do you know how hard it was to take that class and not get hard every time you danced? I just keep thinking—”

“This?” Stiles manages to get between his legs, kneeling so that his hard cock brushes against Derek’s soft one as he rolls his hips. “Oh fuck, can you roll over? I mean, I want to see you, but I want to… I want to just fuck you, like you want to be fucked, ok? We can do it this way another time, I promise, but right now I really _really_ want to focus on fucking you.”

Derek rolls over, ass in the air. He wiggles it once, and Stiles laughs, slapping at his ass cheek, doing it again when Derek arches into it. He feels Stiles slot in behind him, thighs against thighs, cock resting in the crease of Derek’s ass. He isn’t ready yet, but he trusts Stiles, knows it’s going to be good. This is just foreplay as Stiles shifts, undulates and his cock slides through the crack, teasing across his hole. Derek whines softly, and Stiles does it again, matching it with a roll of his lubricated thumb against the rim, pressing in and retreating, teasing him like a dance.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Stiles whispers. “And so fucking _amazing_. I can’t wait to be in you, can’t wait to fuck you so deep. I’m going to open you up until you’re begging for me.” His thumb slides in to the first knuckle, twists lightly before he pulls it back. “Can I lick you open? I mean, are you okay with that?”

“Fuck yes.” Derek’s head is turned to the side, pillowed on his arms as he arches back into him, begging quietly at the words. “Scent me.” He doesn’t expect it mean anything to Stiles, not the same way it does to a born werewolf, but as soon as he feels the touch of his cheek inside his thigh, he knows it means _something_. Stiles rubs against him, licking the back of his balls, his perineum, slick around the edge of his ass.

He uses his tongue, his mouth, those long fingers, keeps fucking into him until Derek is crying out, whining with need. His legs are shivering, his entire body shaking as he quietly begs for more. He feels Stiles slot another finger into him and he wonders, just for a moment, if he could take a whole hand and he shudders at the thought. “Now,” he groans. “Please, Stiles, fuck me now.”

The first roll of his hips is slow and sensual, sliding into the slick space that Stiles has created, sloppy and wet in Derek’s ass. He pushes back, shaking, and Stiles pulls out, rolling again to slide into him.

“Fuck yes.”

One speaks and the other echoes, and both of Stiles’s hands are on his hips, holding on hard. He sets a rhythm to music that Derek imagines, fucking into him slow and deep, then shifting to a faster tempo. He can imagine the slide of Stiles’s hips, the way he gyrates and gestures, the intimate look of the dance. Derek is hard again, aching and full, pushing back and wanting more. _Please please please_. It’s a whisper that he can’t help, crying out when Stiles stutters, hips jerking for a moment before he finds the rhythm again.

Derek wedges a hand under himself, reaches for his own dick only to have his hand batted away as long fingers wrap around him, stroking him quickly from root to tip, rolling roughly over the head before stroking back down again. Derek manages a strangled moan as Stiles shifts, pushing even deeper into him, and that’s all he can manage before his orgasm slams into him, leaving him with red spots dancing in a field of black across his vision, his entire body jerking before he goes limp.

“Going to fill you up.” The words are a hoarse whisper, then Stiles makes one last swift roll of his hips before he stops; there’s a flood of musky scent, and Derek feels the warmth, the slow drip when Stiles pulls out after.

He lets himself fall onto the bed in a sprawl of limbs, turning over just enough to gather Stiles in, rubbing his cheek against him and touching him everywhere, spreading their combined scents. It’s sticky and messy and absolutely perfect.

“I think you killed me.” Stiles licks the words into Derek’s skin, and he turns to him, capturing his mouth in a slow, soft kiss. “I mean it, dude,” Stiles says. “I’m dead here.”

“I have the stamina of a werewolf,” Derek points out, and Stiles groans. Not that Derek is going to be ready to go again any time soon; twice in a row is already doing damned well considering he’s not a teenager any more.

Besides, he likes the idea of just lying here, bathed in sweat and scent and making Stiles’s room smell like him.

“When did you say your dad gets home?” Because right now, Derek can’t even think about going anywhere.

“I am twenty-one years old and he is _not_ going to complain about me having sex with my boyfriend in my own bed,” Stiles murmurs. “Besides, I warned him. Maybe he’ll sleep over at Melissa’s tonight. He needs a good excuse to do that.And you? You can sleep right here, and we’ll wake up in the middle of the night and rub off together, and then have lazy sex in the morning before I make waffles for you. No bacon, though. Can’t keep bacon in the house. My dad’s heart.”

Derek snorts softly, because this is the man he’s been falling in love with for almost two months now. “No bacon is fine,” he echoes, wrestling Stiles into position as the little spoon, wrapping comfortably around him. “No bacon is perfect, and so is lazy morning sex, and maybe sucking each other off in the shower, or just making out in the car before I go. It’s all good, Stiles, as long as it’s with you.”

Stiles makes a sound that Derek thinks is assent. It sounds like _yes_ and it smells like contentment, and as far as Derek is concerned, that’s pretty much perfect.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


End file.
